


Do What You Feel Now

by hystericalselcouth



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Repressed, Gen, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 05:39:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3756469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hystericalselcouth/pseuds/hystericalselcouth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fire seemed to be perched on a slope, sliding down slowly. The effort of keeping himself steady dizzied him. He did not notice Aramis looking worriedly at him at the other end of the make-shift circle in which the four men slept.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do What You Feel Now

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own anything, I make no profits. Title taken from MGMT's 'Electric Feel'.  
> MIGHT BE TRIGGERING, TURN AROUND NOW.
> 
> I genuinely don't know what to do with this, I night just leave this here as it is.

“Hey, Aramis, do you have a few spare bandages?”

Aramis wheeled around.

“What do you need bandages for?” he asked sceptically.

“Oh, I just cut my hand while fishing in the stream.”

Aramis snorted.

“Do you think I have bandages to spare at the rate at which the three of you get yourselves hurt?” he asked, tilting his head in the direction of the heavily bandaged d’Artagnen who was propped up against a tree some distance away, unconscious.

“Alright, alright, you are touchy about your bandages, aren’t you?”

Aramis snorted again and went back to frying the fish. Just as Athos turned around, he threw a couple of bandages at Athos’s head. Chuckling, Athos picked them up.

“Well, now I know you keep them close to your heart!”

The next thing thrown at Athos’s head was a half-fried fish.

 

Athos stared at the fire, breathing hard. He lay on his side, gritting his teeth in an effort to keep the pain at bay. He wasn’t sure for how long he could keep it up, until he succumbed to unconsciousness all together. He held on tight to the grass on which he lay. Through his drooping eyelids, he felt the earth move under him. The fire seemed to be perched on a slope, sliding down slowly. The effort of keeping himself steady dizzied him. He did not notice Aramis looking worriedly at him at the other end of the make-shift circle in which the four men slept. The forest was dark and quiet for a November night. The healer in Aramis could bear it no further and in an effort not to wake Porthos or D’artagnen, he moved to Athos slowly and quietly. Athos’s eyes were now tightly shut, pain creasing his brow.

“Athos?” he asked.

The orange and red of the fire illuminated Athos’ sharp, melancholy features, but the man did not wake.

Aramis put his palm to Athos’s forehead and sat down, the latter was cooler than normal. He noticed the man’s left hand tucked beneath him. Seeing no other way out, he rolled Athos on to his back. Athos groaned wearily and his blue eyes flickered open wanly.

“Wha…..”

“Quiet, Athos.”

Athos’s eyes suddenly widened and he tried his best to push Aramis away. Aramis pushed Athos to the ground tightly while with a firm grip held up Athos’s left arm. The bandages he had given him earlier were wrapped around his forearm, soaked and heavy with blood, threatening to fall off. Athos’s clothes were equally stained red, and quite a lot of the dark liquid colured the green grass. Athos had clearly lost more blood than was safe.

“Mother of Christ, Athos, why didn’t you tell me?”

Athos seemed to give up trying to rise and escape. He fell back down on the earth. While Aramis peeled the soggy cloth off of his skin, Athos croaked, “Bloody tree branch.”

Aramis ignored Athos’s weak explanation and focused on inspecting the wound. After a few moments of looking hard at the long, clean opening running from wrist to fore-arm, he rapidly tore off strips of cloth from his tunic under his armour and tightly wound up Athos’ arm. After slowing the bleeding and wrapping yet another layer around the gash, he tossed the wet, original bandages into the fire. By the time he was done, Athos was out like a light bulb. Aramis, however, was more concerned about Athos’ reaction when he would tell him what he had found in the morning.

About an hour later, Aramis found Athos’s pulse weak. He shook Athos gently, the latter waking tiredly, and held a water-bag to his lips. Athos drank a few sips painfully. Before Athos could fall asleep, he asked him the question.

“Why did you do it?”

“Do….what?”

“Why did you cut your arm?”


End file.
